Casually Compromised - Book 1

Green Fairey

Another day shift, another day at the club. So much for recovery.

I was cleaning out my bag, sorting my many tiny notebooks.

I had been taking them with me to the club this whole time. Early on I did lots of scribbling, curious about everything.

Every encounter at the club, after many drinks, a scribble here and there. It was common for geeks like me to carry notebooks. My father was never seen without a pen and paper, they were like ritualistic fabric for him. More often than not he'd be seen taking measurements to do something in the house, jotting down notes in church or in meetings, or jotting down directions, information gleamed from conversations in a pre-always on, always knowing internet world.

"I used to have a serious crush on that woman.." the shot warden told me bringing me a beer. Mid day club conversation, my favorite.

I looked at the stage to notice a new beauty, she was tall and I recognized that slow sensual dance pattern. She had been a dancer for a long long time I figured. I had not seen her before though. Its not like I cataloged them all, though I was working on it.

A smitten shot warden, this intrigued me.

"What's her name?" I asked, as the shot warden leaned against the booth, eyes batting back at me. A shot on her mind, perhaps on mine as well.

The shot warden turned around exposing her low cut dress, a tattoo barely decipherable on her leg below her knee griped my eyes. Tattoos like this were cryptic patterns, it was like a puzzle, was a that dragon tail or a demon or something Chinese or Japanese? In most average settings asking about that tattoo given where it was would be grounds for sexual harassment though, clearly you were tricked into asking. The club was a was a place to expand your horizons on what you could or couldn't ask.

I think rapport is the gateway to avoid most sexual harassments. If you ask in an incorrect way, clearly yes, bad, in a good way, with rapport, you're just being courteous, down right flirty. Could that be true? My morals challenged in this arcade.

"That's Pandora." the shot warden said, leaving my booth letting me take all of her in view as she made her way down the rows toward the back of the club.

Pandora. I knew this name. I watched Pandora complete her set. She was confident, but reserved, definitely came across shy. A shy stripper- this seemed like an oxymoron to me. How do be shy and strip? Clearly I wasn't a stripper, and there's a good chance whatever I thought I knew was 90% incorrect.

I could feel the shot warden in my head giving me a hard time about this analysis of Pandora without any real facts, gleaming the truth however fit I saw it to be.

But this was the woman of legend. Veer told me stories of ancient beauty no longer at the club, he was infatuated with her. He claims to a degree far beyond my infatuation with Vera. I was comforted by the sense others would totally be challenged and largely taken by the grand game. I had company, we were all losing, nice.

But Pandora had left, apparently years ago. Which meant Veer was excessively good at spending long before I had arrived. Perhaps I was a novice. While this was my third stint in experiencing strip clubs in my life, by far the most expensive, yet most rewarding. Another good feeling.

My beer was nearly gone. The shot warden passed by making that smile. Shots on the way I had hoped.

I fired up my laptop. She's in the system I thought to myself. In the backend system of the club there were folders on all the girls, used for marketing purposes. Not all the girls had photos but most did I had this access cause well, we worked on the subsystems and the intent recognizer, the girls were just in there to help us create user profiles for individual dashboard access.